Chapter 13
We were dressed in casual black. Zoe pretty much was always dressed like that, and I guess I subconsciously didn’t want to break the pattern.
We drove up to the house and knocked on the door.
A woman opened, tired and weary. It was Tina Foinos, the girl’s mother.
“Hello.”
“Hello madam, we are CDI, from the Hellenic Centre for Disease Control and Prevention,” Zoe said and presented her card. I held up mine a bit too proudly, and she slapped my hand down.
Miss Foinos tucked her nightie in a defensive gesture and crossed her arms. “This is not a good time. Leave.”
She shut the door to our face.
